Crazy and Alone

Fear not, it’s not going to be an emo post about how terrible life is.

Today was the last day of my group therapy. I have mixed feelings about that. On one hand, I know I have done some progress. Going there has helped me and they gave me tons of useful documents. On the other hand, the emotional side kicks in. I enjoyed going there, it was a good moment of the week. I liked the other people who attended, as well as the two therapists.

In life, pretty much everything comes down to money. There were now only three of us attending the group on a regular basis, with a fourth one who was practically never showing up. The group was put to an end because it’s not enough. They aim for about 8 to 10 people per group.

I could always go into another group but I spoke with my therapist about the group ending and we agreed that I wouldn’t need to continue. That’s mostly because I’m starting a therapy to cure my phobias. And, trust me, this is going to be very hard work. I currently have trouble sleeping at night and usually fall asleep after the sun has started to rise because I get scared.

I had to do a list of my phobias for that therapy and just doing the list made me feel terrible. I also refused to take the list into my bedroom and I hate carrying it around, like it’s going to contaminate my hands.

The thought of starting that therapy scares me, but I know it’s for the best. I cannot always rely on roommates to change the bag in ­monster cans trash cans.

My job is going well. I missed a lot of days in the past few weeks, but I’m catching up this week and my work is getting done at a pretty good speed.

I must go shopping next weekend. I am in serious need of underwear, above all of the bra kind. A huge need of bras, you see.

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